Page 22 of Cold

ChapterEight

VITO

Romare was coveredin ribbons of blood. The crimson liquid dripped from his cheek and to the floor below as he held a knife in his hand. He panted hard.

And then his eyes went wide and watered.

"I-I..."

I turned back to the storeroom door and beckoned one of my men over. "Lock this store down for the time being. I'll be out in a minute."

"Sure thing, Mr. Bianchi."

He hustled out of the room and I shut the door behind him. I flipped the lock and turned back to Ro. He still stood in the same place, clutching his cat and shaking. I stepped forward and held out my hand.

"Give me that."

Romare clutched the knife against his chest. "No."

I frowned. Part of me wanted to shake the boy until he cried. But I knew that wouldn't get us anywhere. Instead, I kept my hand out and stared at him. He swallowed hard, took a step forward, and paused. Each step was mechanical. Thoughtful.

Finally, he laid the pocket knife in my hand. I curled my fingers around it. I knew there was something wrong with him. I hadn't been able to figure it out, but as he stood there with a body at his feet, I knew I recognized that look in his eyes when he watched me.

That was the face of a killer.

"There's a sink back there," I nodded. "Go wash your face and hands. There's nothing we can do about your clothes." I took off my jacket. "You can wear this when you're done."

Romare's eyes overflowed. "Vito-"

"Go," I growled. "Clean up first and talk later. I have a lot of shit to do right now so breathe and get going. Do you understand?" When he didn't respond, I walked over and cradled his cheeks. "Ro. Do you understand?"

"Yes," he whispered. "I, um...I understand."

"Then go do what I told you to do."

"Okay."

He shuffled off to the back where he found a sink. As he washed up, I looked down at the body and frowned. That's a lot of stab wounds for someone who can be so giddy and happy. What's going on in that head of yours, Romare?

I pulled out my phone and spared one last glance at Ro. Mr. Whiskers sat on a box beside him, a few droplets of blood splattered across his fur. I need to get that cleaned for him. Maybe I can grab it while he's asleep. He doesn't have to know.

My fingers hovered over the screen of my phone and I stopped. Since when do I give a damn about Romare? He was the mission, the one I was supposed to keep safe until I could dump him on Ama and go back to living my life. And now I was contemplating kidnapping a stuffed animal so I could get it clean.

What the hell was going on with me?

I shook myself out of my haze and dialed a number. A few rings later, I informed my men what to do.

"Yeah, at the mall. One of the others will let you in." I gazed up at Romare. He was still standing at the sink, washing his hands robotically. I wanted to yell at him to snap out of it, but I didn't. Even if he was freaking me out. "We'll take it out of here and you guys can dispose of it. Yeah. I'll see you in ten."

I hung up and started working on the body. There was a sheet of plastic nearby and I used that to wrap him up. I looked at the pool of blood. When my men arrived, they'd have the proper supplies to clean it. They already knew how to do their job. I just had to oversee it.

There was always a pair of gloves in my pocket and I yanked them out. Once they were on, I could settle into my work brain. I made a list in my head of exactly what I needed to do. Get the body out with as little detection as possible, clean up the blood, cover our asses.

"Romare, is there a door back there?"

"What?" he asked, his voice a million miles away.

I glanced up at him. "Hey, pay attention. Is there a door that way?" I asked as I jerked a thumb to the left. "There should be a place where deliveries would get dropped off."

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